I Hate Me, Part 259,002
I walk like a goddamned troglodyte, slumped and shuffling. So I go through a lot of sneakers from dragging my feet (literally and figuratively). After years of going through sneakers like they were made out of paper I’ve found that plain black New Balance sneakers last the longest, almost a year in some cases. The pair I have now is going on six months and fading fast, thanks to my attempt at cobbling. Last week I discovered that for reasons that are still unclear to me, my left sneaker squeaked. An annoying “eek!” like I was constantly stepping on cartoon mice. It was driving me batshit. So I took off the noisy shoe and went on an exploratory mission with my pocketknife. I was thinking maybe it was gum, or tape, or dogshit, or a musical pebble wedged in such a way that with every step “eek!”. I couldn’t find a goddamned thing. Then I figured I’d jab around with the knife to see if any of the sole was loose. I got a little over zealous and “Stab!” right through the sole. I didn’t think it went all the way through, I stopped my amateur cobbling and had resigned myself to being the asshole with the noisy shoe. Two days later it rained and my soaking wet foot made me realize that yes, I cut all the way through the bottom of the shoe and was now stuck with a squeaky sneaker that has a leaky hole in it.